


If You’re not Sinning, You’re not Having Any Fun

by DevinBourdain



Series: Manifest Destinies [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Army, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jail, Vulcans as a first nations tribe, hangings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-02 21:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10228211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevinBourdain/pseuds/DevinBourdain
Summary: The major moments in Jim's life that lead him to becoming the leader of an outlaw gang that saves Federation City.  Character origin story for Western Enterprises Series.  Western AU.At four years old, Jim Kirk tries on his father Stetson and spends the afternoon gawking at himself in the mirror.  He uses his finger as a gun and practices drawing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Star Trek characters are not mine, just borrowed for this story.  
> Warnings: language and violence and references to sex  
> Comments are always welcome and appreciated

 

At four years old, Jim Kirk tries on his father Stetson and spends the afternoon gawking at himself in the mirror.  He uses his finger as a gun and practices drawing.  It’s that moment that he realizes he’s going to be a famous lawman like his father: Sheriff George Kirk.

At the age of six, Jim watches in horror as Nero rides into town and hangs his father.  The law doesn’t touch Nero for his crime and Federation City falls into a lawless state.  As his mother moves them back to her home town of Riverside, he decides he doesn’t want to grow up to be a sheriff.

He knows a seven year old shouldn’t play with his father’s gun but he swears it was calling to him.  His mother’s not the damsel in distress the town believes her to be and he knows she can not only use the firearms that used to belong to George but use them well to protect what’s left of her family.  It’s during a game of hide and seek that he finds the box under her bed and the pistol safely encased within. 

The little devil on his shoulder doesn’t have to preach very long before he snatches up the weapon, a handful of bullets and makes off to old Reginald farm for target practice in the field.  It takes a couple of weeks but pretty soon he can’t miss the targets even when he tries.  Cans sitting on the wooden fence aren’t the fast pace targets of a chase but it’s a start and an inclination to natural skill.  It’s the first time he thinks about tracking Nero down and showing him what happens when you mess with a Kirk.  But then he thinks about his mother and how worried she’d be if he just up and left and thinks it might be a mission that has to wait.  He keeps the gun though; he has big plans for it.

When he’s eight years old he over hears his mother crying to a family friend about how much he reminds her of George.  He’s always know he’s the spitting image of his father but this is the first time he’s heard he’s a carbon copy.  He isn’t blind to the pain he cause his mother, both directly and indirectly.  In that moment he vows to be nothing like George Kirk.  Maybe then he can mitigate the damage he does to his mother.   

When Jim reaches the ripe old age of twelve, he goes and gets busted in school for gambling, a rather impressive racket of indebting other students so they have to do his school chores, and has the teacher worked into a frenzy.  He doesn’t want to burden his mother with his troubles and needs to come up with something to sooth his teacher’s ruffled feathers.  It’s a land mark moment as he learns a little charm goes a long way, he can talk his way out of anything and the most deadly weapons he has in his arsenal are his deep blue eyes.  He’s so proud of himself he takes the rest of the day off of school and spends the afternoon fishing.  And he doesn’t even get in trouble for it.

Fifteen seems like a good age to set out on his own.  His brother Sam’s married and the happy couple are living with mom and looking after the homestead.  Jim isn’t needed to work on the farm for the family’s income anymore.  There’s a big world out there and he’s going to see, wild and unbound by rules and expectations.  Living with the ghost of his father has never been easy and he regrets to say his mother looks a little relieved when he announces his intention to leave.

He heads to the next town over and meets a lady of the night named Ruth who teaches him what he didn’t know how.  It’s the best educational experience of his life, fortifying his interest in the opposite sex and booze; he vows to spend the rest of his life seeking out both.  He’s never alone after that and always in good spirits.  His charm isn’t just for getting himself out of trouble anymore.

After touring the towns this side of the mountains he kind of wants to see what’s become of his father’s town.  Federation City has grown but just as rough as he remembers leaving it.  He hits up the saloon and takes a table in the back.  It’s been ten years but there’s probably still people who remember his father and one look at him is going to clue them into just who Jim is.  He wants neither the reminder nor the attention. 

Half way through the night a man reeking of booze and frustration chases a girl who can’t be much older than him down the stairs from the bedrooms yelling about how she hasn’t earned her money yet.  The townspeople, too drunk, too busy or too afraid to do anything just ignore them as the man viciously slaps the girl, a terrified whimper slipping past her aching lips.  She falls to the floor in a heap, clutching her face and bawling her eyes out.  It has nothing to do with Jim and being a hero never got anyone anything but dead, but still he can’t seems to ignore the girl’s plight when the man pulls his belt free from his pants and raises it to strike the girl.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” warns Jim, pulling his gun.  He cocks it and let his hand rest on the table.

The man looks Jim over, sizing him up.  “This aint none of yer business, son.”  The man raises his arm again, belt in hand.

Jim insists, “You’re making it my business.”

The man lowers his hand, letting the belt fall to the floor.  His attention is focused on Jim now, allowing the girl to scramble to her feet and make her way back upstairs to the arms of the other girls not attending to clients at the moment.  “What are ye gonna do about it, boy?”

Jim cocks his head to the side like he’s considering his course of action.  “First of all, I aint your son, and secondly, I’m going to ask you to stop and if you don’t, I’ll make you stop.  Your choice,” he says with a cocky smile.

The guy goes to pull his gun but Jim’s faster even if his wasn’t already in his hand and out on the table pointing at his target.  He fires two shots, injuring the man’s hand and his leg; perhaps he’ll think twice next time he pulls a gun or attacks a woman.  Jim figures mild flesh wounds are enough of a deterrent to defuse the situation and won’t land himself in jail for murder.  He doesn’t think he can talk his way out of a murder charge for defending a whore in Federation City just yet.

Nobody bats an eye as the man leaves hissing and spitting and promising retribution.  Jim is alive, his heart pounding in his chest and adrenaline singing in his veins; he’s never felt so alive.  The exhilaration wars with his promise to be the complete opposite of everything that was George Kirk.  He thinks this might be the first time he’s found a medium he can live with; the right thing through his own means.  For the first time he believes he might actually be able to punish Nero for taking his father from him.

* * *

 

With all of his seventeen years of life experience, Jim knows the best he’s doing is making a nuisance of himself.  Nero’s gone from being a thug to a man of industry and thus hides in places Jim can’t get to.  He can disrupt business but it’s only momentary.  One person just can’t cause enough damage to shut Nero down or get his attention.

He takes his frustration out by getting into bar fights every chance he gets; the more unwinnable the better.  He never stays very long in any town, and being run out for property damage more often than not, has nothing to do with his decision to leave and lays the ground work for impressive fights when he returns.

He rarely needs to take any jobs, relying on gambling to pay for food, ammunition and a bed.  When cards don’t pay, he’s on a first name basis with most of the working girls in the area.  If they won’t share their beds with him because they like him, they’ll do it in exchange for favors.  Jim’s come to realize he’s a bleeding heart for the causes of the damned.  Mostly he teaches guys not to rough the girls up or collects money owed.  One more memorable time he had to pretend to be of the civilized sort and escort a lady to a party to make her husband jealous enough to reconsider proceeding with divorce.

He has one brief brush with love, falling so hard for a girl that every moment they aren’t in each other’s company he physically aches.  After a month of trying to deny why he hasn’t moved on to the next town he finally bites the bullet and decides he might have something worth sticking around for.  He buys himself some new presentable clothes and makes the terrifying journey to seek out Rayna’s father to ask for her hand in marriage. 

Jim sits there stiffly and listens to all the reason’s her father knows Jim isn’t good enough for his daughter.  He can’t argue with a single one of them except for the fact that he really does love her.  He accepts the ‘no’ with all the dignity and grace he can manage and promises to never see Rayna again.  He spends the night getting drunker than he ever remembers getting and makes sure to be out of town by morning.  He won’t suffer the devastation and trappings of love again.

* * *

 

 Jim still makes what most sane people would consider bad choices.  There’s something thrilling about pushing the envelope, of looking death in the face and telling him, “Not today, asshole.”  He hasn’t found a fight he won’t jump into and can’t say he makes most of his money through honest means.  He’s eighteen years old and isn’t tied down by any place, thing or person; he couldn’t get any further away from being George Kirk if he tried.

He’s entirely unsurprised when he finds himself in a jail cell on the heels of a judgement promising he’s going to spend the best part of his life in prison since he technically hadn’t done anything to earn himself a hanging.  He’s still in the Sheriff’s cell waiting to be shipped out at the end of the month to what will be his home for the foreseeable future and he’s already wanting to climb the walls.  Fortunately his charisma knows no bounds and it’s not his fault that the Kirk charm enthralls the lovely young lady who brings him his lunches.  It’s just a bonus or maybe an extra layer of danger that she’s the daughter of the Sheriff and has access to the key that unlocks the cell door.  He can do amazing things even with his hands chained together.

What surprises Kirk, is who walks in the door about a week into his stay.  Jim’s always been a little self-destructive so he doesn’t stop ravaging the Sheriff’s daughter despite hearing what he assumes is the Sheriff entering the room.

“Aren’t you in enough trouble already?” asks a voice that is absolutely not the Sheriff.

The girl gasps going rigid in Jim’s arms before frantically trying to set her dress to rights.  Jim makes and exaggerated look of disappointment as she flees the cell, too red in the face to even look at the man who walked in on them.  Kirk takes in the uninvited guest out of the corner of his eye as he does up his pants, before shifting to sit properly on his cot.  He sits perfectly still and tries to look uninterested as he greets the man standing on the right side of the bars.  “Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Pike.”

Jim hasn’t seen Pike in years, probably not since just after their move to Riverside.  Christopher had been an old family friend having grown up with George and joining the army with him.  While George met a girl and wanted to settle down, Pike stayed with the army.

“Actually, it’s Captain now,” corrects Pike, pulling up a chair.

Jim rolls his eyes and slumps back against the wall.

“You know I couldn’t believe it when the Sheriff told me your name, that _you_ landed yourself in here,” starts Christopher conversationally.

“And who am I _Captain_ Pike?” interrupts Jim, irritation coloring his voice.  He likes to conduct his sinning without the damning sermon after.

“Your father’s son.”  The answers so simple but cuts so deep.  Jim’s been running from it for so long; it’s not a pressure he can live up to.  He doesn’t even know if he wants to try.  Besides, being as self righteous as George Kirk doesn’t seem like it would be all that fun.

A fond look passes over Pike’s face.  “You know what I loved about your father? He didn’t believe in no win scenarios.”

Jim lets out a long huff before muttering, “Sure learned his lesson.”

Pike shrugs nonchalantly.  “Well that depends on how you define winning.  You’re alive aren’t you?”  Jim turns his head, suddenly fascinated with the wall.  Christopher opts to change tactic.  “You like being the only genius level repeat offender in the Midwest?”

“Maybe I love it,” Jim counters, tacking on his devil may care smile for effect.

“Maybe,” emphasises Pike, “you were meant for something special.”

Jim frowns.  “What?  Join the army like you?  You must be low on your quota if you want someone like me to join.”

“I saw your handiwork in the saloon.  Saloon brawls and stealing cattle are a waste of your talent.”  Even a week later, the saloon still looks like a war broke out in it.  Jim’s alleged crimes are lengthy and varied and something to be awed at by their sheer range and multitude.  The crimes the Sheriff in this town can actually pin on Kirk are cattle rustling and assault, though the Sheriff isn’t terribly upset with who Jim had beaten to a pulp more at the damage to his town.

“I didn’t start the fight.  The guy came looking for me,” retorts Jim.  He’s never disputed the facts, just the cause.  If people are going to take issue with his sins they should at least get the facts straight.  He’s foolhardy enough to be involved in shit but not dumb enough to start things for no reason.

“Because you stole his cattle,” counters Pike, failing to see how Jim is anything less than guilty.

Jim explodes, rising to his feet to pace in front of the cell bars. “He stole them first!”  Pike looks at Jim with disbelief.  “The guy is leasing land to new settlers.  He waits until they get established and raises the rent beyond what they can afford before first harvest or slaughter.  When they can’t pay, he takes the livestock leaving the families without any means to make money or even feed themselves. I gave the cattle back to their rightful owners.”

Pike smiles like Jim just proved his point.  “That’s why you should join.  We restore law to the land and make it safe for civilized people to live their lives out here.  You can make sure another Nero doesn’t destroy someone else’s life.”  It’s a low blow, but the point stands.  Jim has the potential to help a lot of people but first Chris has to save him from himself.

Kirk flops back on his cot looking like a wounded animal.  Defeat laces his voice when he asks, “We done?”  He’s tired and everything he’s tried to get to Nero or get the man’s attention hasn’t gotten him any closer to his goal. 

Pike nods and gets up from his chair.  He stops at the door but doesn’t turn to look at Jim.  “Your father was the Sheriff in Federation City for over a year and a deputy for nearly five.  In that time he protected that town from tyranny and the evils of the world.  Most of that town owes their lives to your father.  I dare you to do better with your life.”

                Jim doesn’t sleep well that night and in the morning he asks the Sheriff to bring Captain Pike back.

* * *

 

A leopard doesn’t change its spots but Jim’s damned determined to rise to Pike’s challenge.  It requires him to work harder and be smarter to make the grade and not get busted for any of his shenanigans.  He dreams of a day where Pike might have to salute him as a superior rather than a subordinate.  It’s the first time his skills have been encourage and funneled into a useful matter and Pike doesn’t hesitate to show him at every opportunity the good his actions are facilitating.  For the first time he thinks he might be someone his mother could be proud of.

Despite some of his less than approved methods for getting things done, Jim manages to climb rank and before he knows it, he’s Pike’s Lieutenant at twenty-one and responsible for other people.  Pike’s only concern, as with the army’s, is results and not the heathenism that is Jim Kirk.  If he should happen to find comfort in the arms of a willing woman on a cold dark night, or nearly dry up a saloon, as long as he gets the prisoner back on schedule, no one is the wiser.  If as no one gets hurt, he’s given a rather long leash to get away with things that wouldn’t fly with anyone else.    Jim’s methods can be dangerous, risky and rebellious and certainly responsible for every gray hair Christopher is getting. With all of Jim’s accomplishments, procedure be damned, Pike can’t argue that Kirk produces results. 

Jim views it as a badge of honor when Pike recommends him for the detachment going to negotiate a land treaty with the Vulcan people.  He struts around camp like a cock with the walk but inside he’s nervous that he has someone other than his mother to disappoint.

* * *

 

                The treaty is going to be negotiated by Chief Sarek and council for the Vulcans and army officers, with a much higher rank than lieutenant.  Jim is allowed to attend the greeting ceremony and is impressed with both the people and the culture, as strange as it is.  It’s a learning experience that gives him his first taste of diplomacy and spikes his interesting in all the things he could accomplish with words rather than arms.  He’s always been good with words.

When Jim is excluded from the talks he takes to chatting with the Chief’s son, who isn’t the greatest with small talk but rather willing to engage in a cultural exchange.  They come from very different worlds; customs often the stumbling block to understanding, but one thing they can agree upon is chess.  Spock takes to it surprisingly well and brings tactics to the game that excites and stump Jim.  He hasn’t had an opponent other than Pike who made the game this exciting before.

They play chess in the evenings, usually in the main hut the Vulcans created as a ‘town hall’, capitalizing on the light of the fire that is kept burning inside.  Through their conversations he learns that Spock’s mother is not Vulcan, rather she comes from Dodge of all places, and met Chief Sarek when her father moved the family out west to take advantage of the government land grants.  She _may_ have taught Spock the finer points of chess long before he met Jim thought the Vulcan won’t confirm nor deny the his mother’s chess skills. 

Spock, like all Vulcans, has no taste for alcohol and refuses to accompany Jim back to the army mess tent for drinks after the game.  It’s probably just as well, watching the soldiers get drunk and rowdy at cards doesn’t paint them in the best light when they’re supposed to be upstanding members of society.

The game goes extra long tonight and Jim’s sure he’s missed out on getting his fair share of the smuggled moonshine as he creeps back to his tent. 

The camp is silent, almost everyone having turned in for the night and he really doesn’t want rouse anyone and start a panic or worse, irritate his commanding officer.  He assumes it’s the last of the drunken diehards commiserating that he hears whispering in the night as he passes by one of the tents but the conversation stops him cold.  There are only a handful of men, mostly officers, staying within the Vulcan camp, the majority of the men are camped further down the river, narrowing down the list of culprits.  The Vulcans’ main camp is further up river, making the place for the treaty an attempt at neutral ground and a tactic for both sides to hide their true numbers.  Whoever is still up is discussing bringing the troops forward and not to partake in the festivities.

He stands there, frozen in place, barely daring to breath, as he listens to the plan by his fellow officers to slaughter the Vulcans and take the land.  His stomach drops as he thinks of his part in this elaborate lie they’ve been selling.  He’s spoken highly of his people and the agreement they’ve been sent to broker; given his word that it will be good for the future of the Vulcan people.  The Vulcans had sat down with them in a show of good faith to help secure an agreement that benefits both groups while the army is using it as a means to lure them into a false sense of security and get them to lower their guard.

Jim knows the supplies they brought with them, the contingent of men and knows the Vulcans don’t stand a chance of beating them back.  The Vulcans are mostly peaceful, having entered these negotiations in good faith, they’ll never see this betrayal coming in time to mount any kind of resistance.  It’s going to be a bloodbath.  He finds himself stumbling backwards, feet picking up speed until he’s well within the bushes and losing his lunch.  He didn’t accept Pike’s dare to be part of this.

When he stops heaving, he wipes his mouth and slumps to the ground, careful not to land in his own mess.  His head is spinning, his hands are shaking and they’re not even covered in innocent blood yet.  There’s a bad taste in his mouth and it has nothing to do with vomit.  He hasn’t felt this helpless since Nero wrapped his arms around him and made him watch as his father was hanged in the middle of town. 

Cold despair turns to hot anger at being used, at the lies and he’s on his feet, moving without thought.  He needs to do something, has to do something, he won’t stand idly by again and watch death befall good people.  He turns to head back to the tent, to let his fists explain the error in the officers’ plan but stops a few paces shy of the tent.  He can’t take on the whole detachment and a plan like this didn’t originate from anyone here; it has to go higher up than that. 

He starts walking again, moving towards the Vulcans’ tent to demand to speak to Chief Sarek.  He needs to warn them; the army’s going to move in when the senior council comes in to finalize the agreement in two days.  Perhaps they can rally and attack before the army has a chance; lay defenses to protect themselves.  He stops again in front of the tent.  What are the odds they would believe him?  Vulcans are logical, the logic of the situation is settlers are pushing against the boarders of their land, using up the resources they depend upon; they need this deal to survive.  They’ll want to talk it out, and find a peaceful solution to this latest development.  Even mentioning it to the army will force their hand sooner.

Jim turns, going back the way he came.  Even if the Vulcans buy his story the army won’t let them just walk away.  He sees the path stretching out before him, to stand up for what’s right or worry about his own ass.  Jim’s never taken the easy way out in his life, he won’t start now.  He unties his horse and makes off in the dead of night towards the Vulcan village.

* * *

 

His reception isn’t warm; the army’s not supposed to be this far north.  The remaining Vulcan braves surround him, giving orders in a language he doesn’t understand but the message is clear.  He doesn’t struggle as they tie his hands and drag him into one of the tents to stand before the council.

“Please, send for Spock.  I have pressing news about the army’s intent,” he pleads.  The council whispers amongst themselves and Jim’s not sure just how much English they understand.  He needs Spock to not only verify his character but make sure nothing he has to say gets lost in translation.  One of the braves is sent out and all Jim can do is hope he got through to them.

It takes about three hours but Spock does come rushing in the tent.  For a brief moment he looks angry when he finally lays eyes on Kirk but it vanishes leaving the all too familiar blank stare Jim’s been staring at all morning.

“What are you doing here?” demands Spock, storming over to him.

Jim raises his bound hands helplessly.  “Do you think you could...”

Spock grabs a hold of his bound hands and begins untying the rope.  “What are you doing here?” he repeats, low and dangerous.  His grip is tighter than the ropes been and threatens to do more damage.

Jim licks his lips and steels his courage.  The fallout no matter what he does is going to be devastating but he’s never shied away from danger before and he’s not going to start now.  His life has been lived mere inches ahead of a rockslide as he rockets towards the bottom of the mountain.  “These negotiations are a set up.  The army is planning to slaughter your people and take the land.”

The air is sucked out of the room as everyone freezes like statues, doubt and mistrust dancing in their eyes.  Jim squares his shoulder and boldly faces Spock, shows no fear as the Vulcans scrutinize every inch of his being to determine if he should be found wanting.  The soft whispers start amongst the council, the internal debate realized as they offer theory and conjecture about their possible impending doom.

Jim’s overcome with the need to beg forgiveness.  He’s hasn’t done anything wrong, has no plans to harm these people but he heralds their destruction.  Someone needs to apologise for the short comings of his people and their complete disregard for the lives that will be forever destroyed and he’s the only one here.

“You are lying,” states Spock.  There’s a hurt there, a denial, dying to surface that can’t quite escape the Vulcan exterior.

Jim wished he was; he knows the pain of losing everything.  He shakes his head.  “I’m not.  They’re going to wait until the council arrives tomorrow morning to move the men up and attack.  There’ll be no one left when they’re done.”

The council erupts in discussion.

“It is illogical to risk peace on the word of an unknown.”

“We never should have trusted them.”

“We must take action to protect our people and our sacred lands; there is nowhere else to go.”

“If we stand against them we cannot logically expect victory.”

“He lies.  If we react to this claim they will have ample reason to take violent measures against us.”

Spock never looks away, doesn’t even blink and Jim gets lost in the dark assessment of his eyes.  A small tremor runs through him as Spock’s hand rests gently on his face; he hadn’t been aware that Spock moved a muscle let alone moved his hand to Jim’s face without him realizing it.  A chill runs through Kirk, like stepping into tepid water and he feels like he and Spock are the only people in the universe, the rest of the world washing away into the gentle calm of nothingness.  He holds fast, fear begging to move but curiosity rooting him in place.

It last but a moment, then Spock is stepping away, his hand dropping by his side.  Jim feels a little dizzy, wavering on his feet for a moment as the world comes back into sharp focus.

“He is telling the truth,” insists Spock as he addresses the council. 

“You have to leave, now, somewhere they won’t bother to look for awhile.  It’s the land they’re after, if you’re not on it they’ll have no reason to follow,” informs Jim.

The council resumes whispering amongst themselves again.  “It will take a day to pack up that which is important to our people and organize them to leave.  We will start preparations right away,” says one member of council.

“Tomorrow will be too late,” corrects Jim.  “You have to go now.”

“Our people have lived on these lands since the dawn of time.  We cannot simple walk away.  Preparations must be made, artifacts protected.  We will need a day,” states the council, firm and unyielding.

“What about the Chief Sarek and the negotiation party?” asks Spock.  “They must be informed about this betrayal.”

One of the eldest council members stands up.  “If the negotiation party is informed they will return here, alerting the army to our plans.  They will have to remain there until the settlement is on the move.”

If it’s possible, Spock straightens even more.  “You mean to leave them as a buffer between the army and the settlement?”

“The negotiation party will buy time for our people to escape.  Their predicament is unfortunate, but sacrifices must be made if our people are to survive.  The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Jim makes an aborted noise in the background as the council gives him a stern look at trying to butt into a private conversation.  He can’t help but think of his own family and what lengths he would go to to save them before the rest of any community he’s ever been a part of.

Spock’s head bows for a moment before he addresses the council again.  “I request permission to join my father again.”

“That is illogical.”

“They are my parents,” insists Spock.

Jim isn’t familiar with Vulcan nuance, but he understands sacrifice and he certainly understands the desire to save family.  He knows what this play is.  His face lights up as inspiration strikes.  “I know how I can buy everyone time to escape.”

* * *

 

The council sends them on their way, not completely supportive of Kirk’s idea but anything is better than nothing.   If there’s a chance to save as many lives as possible, Jim’s going to take it no matter what anyone else says.,

Spock marches through the settlement with purpose and determination that Jim hasn’t seen until now.  The man was taciturn before but it’s even worse now.  Jim follows behind a step like a duckling following its mother.

“What the hell was that back there?” he asks, equal parts curious, and irritated and driven by adrenaline.

Spock never slows his stride.  “Vulcans call it a mind meld.  It is a deeply spiritual, cultural and private practice among my people.  We do not talk about it with outsiders.”  It’s a clear dismissal as anything.

Kirk slows pointing to himself then back at the tent.  “But you just...” starts Jim rather unarticulated as his mind still struggles to comprehend exactly what the hell happened.

“It was necessary.  We will not speak of it again.”

“But...”

Spock stops abruptly and turns to glare at Kirk, eyebrow raised in curiosity, irritation and with a faint hint of a dare for Jim to keep running his mouth.  Jim’s mouth clicks shut before Spock continues on towards the horses.

“Your people are weird,” he mutters under his breath before jogging to catch up to Spock.

* * *

 

Thank god for Scotty.  All Jim has to do is ask and the Scotsman supplies him with explosives and any ammunition he could safely abscond and never asks any questions he knows Jim wouldn’t answer.  As much as Jim wants a friend in all of this, he can’t in good conscience drag anyone into this that can safely stay out.  He takes his weapons and loads a cart.  He tries very hard not to acknowledge the countdown ticking away in his mind.

* * *

 

The thing is, Jim doesn’t know how deep the plan goes.  Pike recommended him for this mission but he can’t reconcile what he knows about his mentor against what it would take to be a willing part of this crime that he himself has been blind part to.  If he knew nothing of what was going to happen here today, how can he be sure his fellow officers, his men, know anything about it.  As far as everyone wearing a uniform is concerned Jim Kirk is raising arms against his own people.

With the explosives in place he waits the fifteen minutes Spock asked for, fifteen minutes to explain to the chief that they’d been lied to and everything they hoped to achieve by breaking bread with the Whiteman was nothing more than a pipe dream.

His thumb hovers over the detonation trigger.  For the first time Jim has a life, he wakes up every morning with a purpose and a goal that are bigger than himself.  If he presses the button, all that is gone but innocent lives will be spared.  He tries really hard not to compare his dilemma to his father; who stood for what was right and then didn’t stand at all.  He thinks about his mother, and his brother for the first time in years and wonders if they’ll miss him not being in the world, if they’ll understand what he did or if they’ll even know at all. 

Screw it, he’s always managed to land on his feet, however this ends, he’ll make the most of it. 

He presses the button, igniting the explosives and blasting a trench so big that the cavalry is going to have a hell of a time getting the troops across.  The world erupts with the sound of gunfire and calls of attack.  The swirl of chaos pits men against each other; the Vulcans fighting as best they can but no more than a painful deterrent against the well stocked and armed might of the army.  What started as a peaceful camp for negotiating a land agreement is a bloody covered field.  Jim grabs his rifle and does what he can.  He aims for legs and arms, to disable men and tries not kill anyone; they’re just falling orders and protocol with no idea of the bigger crime here.

Jim catches a glimpse of a group of Vulcans on horseback, preparing to head west back towards the Vulcan settlement and where ever their people will head next.  There seems to be an unnaturally large number of men in the area, for both sides, considering the majority of force for each side are still at their base camps.  He’s not entirely well versed in Vulcan culture but the war paint some of them are sporting doesn’t seem quite right.  The fact that they are attacking other Vulcans screams something more sinister is taking place than Jim originally understood.

His heart practically stops when he catches a glimpse of a ghost out of the past and has to blink twice to make sure he really is seeing who he thinks.  That face has haunted his dreams since he was a little boy and it makes his skin itch to watch Nero stand with the army and gun down defenceless Vulcans. 

He shifts his weight from foot to foot, indecision taking hold.  Nero is on the battlefield, within reach.  He could pursue, go after Nero and avenge his father or he can stay and make sure the Vulcans have a chance to escape.  He feels like he’s lost in the murky blackness of sea, unsure just how big the body of water he’s drowning in is.  The fact that Nero has anything to do with this, with the army that he’s spent the best years of his life a part of, makes his skin want to crawl.  The councilman’s words echo in his ear, ‘ _the needs of the many...’_ and as much as Jim wants to watch the light die in Nero’s eyes, he knows he’d be no better than the man himself if he did it at the Vulcan’s expense.

 He blows the next set of explosives creating chaos and giving the Vulcans the distraction they need to leave camp.  Something settles deep inside of Jim as he realizes he’s the only one left standing against the army and the second they figure it out in haze of battle, it will all be over for him. 

Surprisingly, Jim finds it kind of calming.

The moment is ruined as Spock appears, horse leaping out of a billow of smoke as it jumps over a burning wagon, rains to a second horse in his hand.  “Get on!” he shouts, forcing his horse to stop while he passes the other horse over to Kirk.

Jim can’t help the stupid grin that splits his face as he gratefully gets on the horse.  They take off North, away from the Vulcans’ retreat and the army’s goal.  He can feel the bullets whiz by, the heat from the flames; the thick smoke of gunpowder burns his eyes and threatens to choke him.  They’ve almost cleared the battle ground when something explodes, apparently Jim wasn’t the only one to raid Scotty’s stash.  Everything Jim thought he knew about his life is buried under smoke and ash.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jim pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around himself the best he can given the limited mobility the shackles allow, to ward off the cold chill of night.  His cell is small a single wooden room with a window heavy with bars, and a small pile of hay to rest his head on.  He was dragged to the nearest fort to stand charges for treason and tossed in a shack no bigger than an outhouse with a clear view of the gallows just beyond his window. 

His hearing hadn’t taken more than thirty minutes, with a simple guilty and death at dawn for his trouble.  He stood fast as the brass explained how disappointed they were in him, how he let everyone down including Pike, sinned against the uniform and all it stands for; and what would his father think?  He hadn’t said a word when they denied him food or a blanket.  If they wouldn’t listen to his defense, they certainly don’t care about his comfort now.  Now, listening to his executioner stumble around making preparations for dawn, he feels small and alone.  His consolation prize is Spock still managed to escape.  Now he’s going to die for a crime he didn’t technically commit and worse, Nero is still alive.  His father will go un-avenged and that’s worse than the noose he’s going to face.   Suddenly the gray area that he’s chosen to operate his life isn’t as comforting as the dull streaks of dawn crack the night sky open.

He doesn’t regret saving the Vulcans, that was the right thing to do, but he imagined his end would be quick, a decisive bullet in the heat of battle not a long drawn out wait to meet the same fate his father had.  Kirks’ clearly have a calling in life.

He zones out with the click of the lock on the door turning to allow the guards to enter.  Jim takes a deep fortifying breath and gets to his feet, on auto-pilot as his feet shuffle to his doom to the jingle of chains.  His heart pounds in his chest, made all the louder by the slow steady rhythm of the army drums singing his fate.  It’s quite a turn out, everyone piling into the square to get a look at Jim Kirk’s death; officers smiling and men looking remorseful but accepting.  Jim can’t say there’s a friend in the bunch and isn’t sure what that says about the situation or himself.

The trumped up charges are read aloud, a reminder and a warning against anyone else that gets the bright idea to go against progress’s will and capital’s plans.  Human life is meaningless to development that’s steam rolling the land and morally right is just an innocent casualty of the war that’s going to play out in the next few years. 

Jim stops at the top of the platform and allows the executioner’s hands to guide him into position.  He spares a moment to look at his options, to find a way out of this mess but his brain’s too numb to come out with a last minute effort to save his own skin.  He swallows hard as the rope is placed around his neck, tightened in preparation.  The executioner lifts the black cloth to cover his eyes but Jim shakes his head.  He’s never been afraid before and he won’t start now; he’ll look death in the face and smile for as long as he can.

The officers looking on in glee turn their heads to avoid the glare Kirk gives him, blue eyes unrelenting and deadly.  Jim will make sure they see the ends to their good work, make sure they have the stomach for it if they’re going to use him as their scapegoat.  The slaughter of an innocent tribe looks bad when spoken allowed and not whispered in the shadows; a rogue soldier stirring up trouble sounds so much better in the circulating papers.

The drums beat faster and Jim takes a deep breath, calms his nerves and thinks it’s all worth it, even if it led here.  He blinks the moisture out of his eyes.  The drums stop and he exhales, the silence suffocating as he waits for the floor to drop out from under his feet. 

The executioner falls face first onto the wooden deck of the platform, a neat arrow sticking out of his back.  Jim’s vision grays around the edges; he’s forgotten how to breathe and the dead body at his feet isn’t making any sense.

The world explodes with sound, gun fire, horses, shouts, all the sounds of what could be an epic bar fight or shoot out spilling through the square.  The audience scrambles away like ants seeking cover or arms.  The dead bodies are piling up as horses dance around carrying Vulcan braves unleashing a barrage of arrows on the masses.

This isn’t how Jim pictured heaven or hell; figured he’d probably feel the rope tighten before existence faded to something else.  He can’t make sense of what’s playing out before him.  His hands and feet are still shackled and the thick coarse rope secured around his neck, leaving him helpless to do anything, even remove himself from his precarious situation.  The Vulcans should be miles away but here they are ransacking the fort.  Bodies dropping left and right and some getting terribly close to hitting the lever that’s going to leave Jim with nothing to stand on.

“Spock?” chokes out Jim, surprised and relieved to see him riding towards the platform.  He’s never been so grateful to see the stoic Vulcan before in his life. 

Spock gracefully jumps from the horse to the platform, his bow coming up to block the blow from one of the guards who scrambled up the platform to finish the executioner’s job.  Jim can only try and dance out of the way as they trade blows but his leash isn’t long enough to keep him out of the way.

Kirk trips over his own feet, the rope catching him before he can hit the ground.  His hands fly to his neck to try and earn some slack on the rope.  “Spock,” he wheezes, frantic and desperate.

Spock spares him a glance.  Reaching behind his back he pulls free a tomahawk and slams it against the wooden support beam severing the rope.  He can’t spare a moment more to aid Kirk, as Spock’s opponent pulls a knife of his own.

The tension disappears and Jim face plants on the platform gratefully sucking in air.  He worms his fingers between the rope and his neck, painstakingly working the knot to loosen the noose enough to slip over his head.  It’s difficult to get his feet underneath him being shackled but he manages.  He shakes his head to ward off the dizziness making the ground spin and takes a few staggering steps forward.  He throws his weight against Spock’s opponent, knocking him off the platform.

Spock places a steadying hand on Kirk’s shoulder.  “Are you alright?”

“Will be, once we get out of here.”  He rubs his hand against his throat, the phantom feeling of the rope making him feel like he’s choking.

“Agreed.”  Spock glances around the fort at the destruction surrounding them.  The Vulcan way is a typically peaceful way but the army took that away from them.  The council was against sending braves to the fort of all places, but Chief Sarek had over ruled them, with the logic of repaying their debt to Kirk and strengthening their relationship with a potential ally.  It didn’t guarantee the raiding party the full force of the Vulcan people and while they had the element of surprise on their side, to stay much longer will incur heavy casualties.  

Spock whistles, loud and sharp over the sounds of battle and Jim flinches at the noise.  Spock’s horse runs directly towards its master, coming to stand next to the platform.  Spock grabs Kirk and despite his protest, throws Jim over the horse before climbing on himself. 

It’s an undignified escape to be slumped over a horse like a blanket but Jim’s too happy to be alive and getting a chance to fight another day to care.  As they ride out of the fort and everything Jim’s known, he flips death off; the reaper will have to wait to get his prize.

* * *

 

“You’re sure about this?” asks Jim hesitantly.  He can’t help the fidgeting his weariness is causing.

Spock tilts his head to the side, a frustrated look creeping across his face.  “Hold still,” he reminds Kirk.

“Yeah, but...” whines Jim, pulling his hands out of position and into his lap.

Spock grabs his shackled hands and places them back over the smooth surface of the stone.  “There is only a twelve point seven-three percent chance I will miss _if_ you keep still.”

“That’s a twelve percent chance I lose a hand!” argues Jim. 

“The likelihood of death from being captured by the army for having a blacksmith remove the shackles is far greater than the risk of losing a hand if we pursue this option.”

Jim opens his mouth to continue his protest of removing his shackles this way when sound of someone approaching pulls his attention.  Just as a horse comes into view around the bend the shape ping of metal connecting with metal reverberates off the rocky terrain.  He turns back to Spock, who could almost be accused of smirking and lifts up his hand.  Remarkably, not only is his hand free of the shackle but unmaimed.

“Now the other one,” commands Spock grabbing Jim’s left wrist.  He spares a moment to nod at the approaching riders before he continues liberating his co-conspirator. 

By the time Kirk’s hands and feet are free of the chains, limbs still attached, the Vulcan riding party has dismounted.  “Live long and prosper,” greets Chief Sarek with the customary Vulcan hand salute but the words seem heavier now that they’ve lost their home.  Sarek’s eyes settle on Jim.  “The Vulcan people are grateful for your service.”

He glances down, uncomfortable.  It wasn’t the most successful job, he knows they suffered heavy casualties despite the warning and distraction.  “I did what anyone would have done,” offers Jim, soft and gentle.  “You saved my life.  I owe you gratitude.”

Sarek looks at him skeptically.  They both know everyone had a chance and chose to do the opposite in this scenario.  “We are heading west to an ancient hunting land long abandoned by our people.  We believe it is still unclaimed and will seek to make it home once again.  There are no settlements that far out yet, so it is reasonable to expect peace for a little while.  You are welcome to join us Jim Kirk; the army will continue to hunt you making it illogical to return to your people.”

“Thank you for the offer Chief,” starts Jim.  The offer has merit.  He’ll spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder if he doesn’t go into hiding, but he can’t let Nero win.  The man is still hurting people and Jim won’t stand for it.  “But I have unfinished business.  The man that murdered my father was a part of this and I need to figure out why and then kill him.”

Sarek nods his head in understanding.  “You will always be welcome among our people.”  He turns to head back to his horse but stops and turns.

For the first time, Jim realizes Spock is still standing next to him and shows no signs of taking his leave.

“Spock?” asks the Chief.  There’s concern and worry in his eyes.

Spock takes a deep breath.  “No father.  The officers recognized me, they will be searching for me as well as Lieutenant Kirk.  My accompanying you will only put our people in danger.  And mother’s killer is still out there.  I understand our people find no logic in revenge but I believe where mother is concerned, I will adopt the custom of revenge that her people employ.  I also feel it is my duty to help Kirk see his mission through to help nullify the debt our people owe him.”

Chief Sarek looks like he wants to protest but simply bows his head instead.  “Live long and prosper, my son,” he says before taking his leave with the rest of the Vulcan riders.

Jim watches them ride out of sight.  “Are you sure Spock?  You can still go with them.”  He’s kind of grateful to have someone by his side; Spock proved to be a valuable asset but he would understand taking the chance of a life over what awaits if he does follow Jim.

“Yes,” is all Spock says before mounting his horse and offering Jim his hand.

* * *

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” shouts the mocha firecracker as she slams her knife into the table Kirk and Spock are sitting at with tremendous force.

Spock raises his eyebrow at the display that has gotten the momentary attention of the other patrons in the seedy and smoky saloon.  It’s hardly the low key, non attention grabbing, spectacle they were hoping for.

Jim flinches as the force in which the knife is embedded in the table mere inches from his hand reverberates through him.  He swallows hard as he quickly recalculates if the information is worth her wrath because for the record, he likes all his body parts attached where they are.  “It’s nice to see you too, Uhura.  Still delightful as ever I see,” says Jim with as much bravado as he can muster while thinking of all the things she promised to do to him with that knife the last time they crossed paths.

Uhura crosses her arms and glares at Kirk with an expression that screams ‘make it good, or so help you.’

Jim straps on his most dazzling smile and cranks up the charm a couple of watts.  “This is Spock.”  He points his thumb towards the Vulcan beside him, ever mindful of just how close the blade is to his hand.

Uhura glares for a second more before turning her attention entirely to Spock.  Her shoulders relax and she extends hand giving the Vulcan salute warmly.  “I’m Uhura,” she says with warmth before turning her icy glare back on Kirk.  Her hostility promises Jim has about a minute to live unless he fills that time with meaningful words.

Jim kicks out the empty chair at their table, relieved when Uhura takes a seat and the rest of the onlookers go back to their own conversations and card games.  “I’m in trouble,” starts Jim.

“What a surprise,” huffs Uhura.  “Who is she this time?”

Jim kind of resents that that’s the first place Uhura goes, like the only thing he has going in life is ducking out women’s windows to avoid their husbands when they come home.  Although to be fair, that’s exactly what he was doing when he last saw her, but in his defense, he didn’t know she was married.  Jim may have pretty shady morals sometimes but he makes it a point to not destroy the happiness of families.  “It’s not like that.”  He has this feeling that Spock is judging him and it’s making him tense on all sides.  “We need to get through the Tellarite lands.  You’re the only one I know that can negotiate our passage.”

“Go around,” counters Uhura.  The Tellarite are notoriously elusive, except when people trespass on their land, which combined with their willingness for bloodshed and the natural inhospitably of the land makes it better to avoid the trail.  The trail through their territory is however takes two weeks off a person’s journey and allows anyone brave enough to traverse it to be left alone in their travels.

“We can’t.  Besides every bounty hunter in the territory looking for us, the whole army is gunning for us as well.”

Uhura leans back in her chair, a wicked grin melting her features.  “Only James Kirk would do something so monumentally stupid, the whole army would be after him.”

“Despite what Lieutenant Kirk’s reputation would suggest, our current predicament is the result of his attempt to foil the army’s plans to slaughter the Vulcan people in order to obtain our land under the guise of peaceful negotiation,” interjects Spock.

A ripple of sadness washed over Uhura, leaving sympathy painted across her delicate features.  “The army wiped out the Vulcans?” she breathes so quiet it’s almost lost in the noise of the saloon.

“They tried.  Mostly succeeded,” mumbles Jim, sinking into his seat and throwing back the last dredges in his glass.  The self-incrimination is evident in every line of his body.

Uhura locks eyes with Spock, her hand falling gently on his for a moment as she says, “I’m so sorry.”

Spock pulls his hand back slowly, uncomfortable with not only the touch but the magnitude of attention from what amounts to a complete stranger.  “Jim did manage to ensure survivors that are currently relocating in the hopes of rebuilding our tribe.”  

“We need to lose some bounty hunters and gain some distance and you’re the only one I know that can help us get through Tellarite territory.  Please, Uhura, we need your help,” says Jim, hoping to gain some compassion from Uhura without calling in the favor she owes him.  He’d rather save that for when she’s really going to dismember him. 

The Vulcan card does the trick, tugging at whatever heartstrings Uhura keeps hidden because not only does she agree to get them through the territory but Uhura rides with them.  Her innate talent for languages and culture means they can stick to the routes less travelled, out of sight from people looking to cash in on the bounty on their heads and who hate the army as much as they do.

* * *

 

“Hold it right there,” orders Jim leveling his gun at the slightly graying head that comes into view.  The click of the hammer sliding back drives his point home; he has no compunction about using the gun.  The man raises his hands in surrender slowly turning around to get a good look at Kirk.

“Jim,” he nods in acknowledgement.  It wasn’t the warm greeting he had been expecting but given the circumstances it’s better than being shot on sight.  “You really stepped in it this time kid.”  Trouble and Jim have always seemed to go hand in hand, so he can’t say he’s surprised to find Kirk at the center of the biggest shit storm in the last decade.  There’s no condemnation in his voice; a leopard can’t change its spots any more than Jim can play the role of society sheep.  Christopher had thought the brash and violent rebellion phase had passed in the last couple of years that he watched Jim grow into a fine upstanding officer but it was apparently the calm before the storm.

  There’s a subtle rustling sound coming from the other side of the stair case and Pike turns his head.  “Spock,” he greets as he catches sight of the Vulcan undercover of the other wall in the old rustic cabin.

Spock’s gun doesn’t waver but his eyebrow arches in curiosity.  “I do not believe we’ve been acquainted.”

“You come to bring us in, Captain Pike?” demands Jim, gravel in his voice, returning the attention back to himself.  He doesn’t want to gun down his friend and mentor but very clear lines have been drawn in the sand; it’s the world versus him and Spock and he’s not going to lay down and die for some misguided notion of friendship.  The weeks of running and being dogged by every bounty hunter and lawman have taken their toll burning up any compassion he might have had.  He’s tired and running out of ideas. 

“No,” is Pike’s simple answer.  He slumps a little, going for a more casual appearance, less threatening.

Jim takes a step out of the shadows and his relative cover behind the wall, “How’d you find us?”

“Jim,” sighs Pike, and it sounds a little frustrated, “there isn’t anything I don’t know about you.”  It has the virtue of being mostly true.  He’s been there since the beginning, when a starry-eyed George told him he’s met a girl and was going to leave the army to settle down with this girl that made the moon and the stars shine.  Pike had continued with his military career but he’d made a point to check in on the little family when passing through, watching it grow from two, to three, to four and then back to three.  He’d been the one that held a teary-eyed yet stoic six year old Jim’s hand as they lowered George’s coffin into the ground.  He knows all Jim’s haunts and _friends_ , where he runs and why.  The only thing he can’t accurately account for is the sheer depths of the kid’s balls and stupidity, but he isn’t ever surprised by it.

 Jim stands his ground and fights, so he had to still be in the area.  He isn’t stupid, despite the kid’s best efforts to convince everyone he is, so he couldn’t run anywhere obvious.  That left Pike with a very narrow trail to zero in on.  Winona’s mother’s old childhood home is far enough removed from both society and the Kirk name that unless someone was told, it’s doubtful anyone would ever venture this far to look for two wanted criminals.

“What do you want?” Jim snaps, fingers tightening on the gun.  If this is some friendly ‘I’m your Captain and we can work this out together if you just come back and explain your side of things’ conversation, he wants no part of it.  This runs to deep to be talked out and Jim’s not sure he wants to.  He wants blood, he wants Nero’s head and won’t get that if he walks back into the hands of the organization that not only allied with the man but willingly put a rope around Jim’s neck.

Pike nods his head towards the table, a sorry excuse for a meal, hastily interrupted lying scattered across it. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this, son.”

Jim scowls.  “Nothing to talk about.”  He’s torn between the possible pending danger and the over familiarity his lifetime with Pike that wants to pull him into a false sense of security.

Pike shrugs his shoulders and cautiously takes slow measured steps toward a chair at the table.  “When the army tells me my best Lieutenant insights mutiny and starts a savage uprising destroying any hope for peace with the Vulcans, I like to find out what the army did wrong.”

 Jim scrutinises every inch of Pike, searching for the trap he knows is laid out for him.  Reluctantly, he holsters his gun and takes the chair opposite Pike.  He leans back with his arms folded across his chest, hostility at the world rolling off of him in waves. 

Spock takes a step further into the room but doesn’t lower his weapon.  Pike tries to ignore his systematic sweeping of the room for threats with his eyes.

“I sent you on that mission because I thought seeing negotiations first hand might teach you some humility and the virtue of subtly.”  He picks up a hard misshapen blob that looks like it might pass for a biscuit and gives it a tentative sniff before hazarding a bit.  “Imagine my surprise when I hear it all goes to hell, the formerly peaceful Vulcans have scattered to the wind after a bloody skirmish with the army and Jim Kirk is being hanged for treason, only to escape in a blaze of glory facilitated... are you ready for this part?” asks Pike looking serious. 

Jim chews on his lip, looking cross and everywhere but at Pike.

“The son of the Vulcan chief.”  He glances at Spock but the Vulcan doesn’t seem to be any more inclined to enlighten Christopher than Kirk.  Pike has all the patience in the world; he can wait Kirk out if that’s what it takes.  “You’re going to have to trust someone some time Jim.”

“We weren’t there to negotiate anything,” mutters Kirk.  “It was a set up to kill the Vulcans and steal their land so the railway can come through.  I don’t know how high up the plan goes but it was sanctioned.  Guess it’s bad business for the world to find out we’re starting the wars with the Indians so they pinned it to look like I started it when I warned the Vulcans of the impending attack.  Seems Nero brokered a deal to help facilitate it.  He was there and I didn’t do anything. ” The words come tumbling out of his mouth faster and faster.  It’s one thing to know the truth but he didn’t know how much he needed someone to believe him until he was spewing the tale to Pike. 

Christopher is quiet for a painfully long time.  The silence chips away at Jim’s soul.  This was Pike’s life, the organization he’s breathed and bled for.  It would be a simple matter to dismiss everything Jim claims and pretend the status quo is still in place, if not for the simplicity of not having to deal with the sheer mass of those culpable then to save his conscience soul from the lies that now haunt every order executed and decision made.

“Well the first thing, is you’re going to get a good night’s sleep because you look like you’re going to fall over, then we’re going to have a decent cooked meal because this...” he gestures to the attempt at food on the plate, “is just sad.”  Pike uses his command voice, leaving no room for argument.  “We’ll work out a plan about what to do after that.”

Jim nods his consent and Spock finally holsters his gun.  Whatever Pike decides to do about them, it’s tomorrows problem; today promises the first night of real rest since things started.  Jim’s too tired to turn this down.

Pike has two men with him, ones he trusts implicitly, waiting in town.  He’ll ride out and get them while Jim sleeps and bring back all the makings of a good meal; his man Sulu is apparently a wonderful cook. 

“I don’t suppose you’d consider the easy way out and let me get you as far away from here as possible?” asks Chris, as he dumps Jim onto the bed. 

Jim shakes his head as he relaxes on the blankets.  Now that he’s horizontal the energy that’s been keeping him going is fading fast.  He doesn’t have the reserves that Spock does at this point.  “Can’t walk away,” he mumbles tiredly, eyes already slipping shut.  “Not while Nero’s still out there.”

A little smile creases Pike’s lips.  He knew the answer before he asked the question but he still had to give the kid an out.  He wants nothing more than to spare what’s coming for Kirk, what vengeance, revenge and survival are going to do to George and Winona’s little boy.  He’s going to protect Jim for as long as possible and if that means waging war on the world, then that’s what he’ll do.  He has to step up his game from what it used to be.

* * *

 

Pike has some loose ends to tie up and information to get before he loses all touch with the army and any ability he has to lawfully help Jim.  He takes his men, Sulu and Chekov with him with plans to meet in two weeks time.  It’s plenty of time for Jim and Spock to follow up on a lead that Pike was able to give them in regards to valuable documents that could help steer them towards Nero and his accomplices while Uhura goes on a head to scout out locations for a possible base camp.

It’s a lucky break on two fronts.  Not only do they get the information but he runs into Scotty again.  Jim’s glad that the Vulcan incident hasn’t left the Scotsman too worse for wear.  Scotty’s talents are hard to pass up, so he’s relieved when Montgomery agrees to tag along.  It’s not the greatest repayment he can offer for Scotty being kicked out of the army, hunting Nero promises death, but it is purpose and direction, all the things Scotty seemed to be missing lately.  Jim always likes having a good drinking partner around.

It’s the first real step Jim’s ever taken in his life to actually take Nero down.  It’s nice to have people willing to have his back while he leads this charge and he thinks they may actually accomplish their task.  He has Pike’s guidance and Spock’s logic to temper his hand and curve his brashness that would most likely lead the plan to ruin.  One way or another Nero has touched all of their lives and now they have a common goal to keep them united.  They establish a base camp far away from civilization but pretty central to the cluster of towns in the area.  Their nefarious activities don’t offer gainful employment so they’re reduced to less than honest means requiring access to stagecoach and train routes and towns they can loot supplies and skills from. 

There is no turning back from this path, because Nero knows they’re coming now.  Jim doesn’t think he’d want to turn away even if he could.  It’s dangerous and deadly and so far from the side of right he’s not sure he can see the line clearly anymore.  They’re outside the law now, viewed as no better than the man they’re trying to bring down.  It’s the most fun Jim’s had in years. He kind of knows this is where he was always going to end up anyways.  His future’s tight around his neck like the noose Nero put around his father’s, only Jim’s going to do what George couldn’t.  Jim Kirk is going to restore law in the land by killing Nero.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone who read this story, commented and/ or left kudos, you're the best.  
> Thanks to CaptainNinapants for beta reading this story.  
> There is an origin story for each member of the gang: Kirk, Spock, Pike, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov and then McCoy


End file.
